Why Does Confidential Begin with Confident?
by chiefsnoozles
Summary: Spy AU? Post-Canon. Mainly Duncney & Heather with Bridgette, Geoff, & Gwen. Swearing and mentions of sex, some violence and !brief! mention of gore.
1. Pretty Little Lawyers

**A/N: I don't own Total Drama Island *single teardrop rolls down cheek***

"Mr. Abraham couldn't have escaped from the crime scene so quickly, let alone commit it at all. Firstly, Mr. Abraham was born with clubbed feet, a birth defect that continued to affect him for the rest of his life. As you can see by the medical records displayed on the screen, circa 1964, my client underwent several surgical procedures from ages 24 to 78 months. Prior to these procedures, doctors at Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak, Michigan, recommended a high-carb diet in order to extract unneeded fat from Mr. Abraham's stomach and mold it into what would later become his replacement heel. Although this ultimately was the only benefactor to my client's eventual ability to walk without leg braces, the weight he gained as a young child affected his weight much later on into his life.

"Mr. Parker's claim that my client was able to escape from the scene of the crime in a period of under 3 minutes is therefore highly unlikely, as both his handicap and weight suggest otherwise. While it is possible that Mr. Abraham escaped on some sort of motorized vehicle, the documentation displayed on the screen, circa 2003, shows my client's driving license was confiscated due to an accident in February of the same year. As my client has not driven any motorized vehicle since, nor own one, it would have taken him approximately 15 minutes to travel from the park's center to the park's entrance, considering that it was night and he was apparently carrying the hatchet, weighing 25 lbs, found in his apartment. My client's weight also suggests that his arms would not have nearly enough strength to create the 6 inch deep wound the victim suffered from. Unless, that is, it was dropped, in which the absurd angle that the murder weapon inflicted the wound on discounts. In conclusion, my client was not able to escape the scene of the crime before park officials discovered the victim's body."

She had them now.

"Thank you, Miss Satella. Mr. Parker, do you have a rebuttal?"

Courtney smiled. Of course not.

She had set this up perfectly, and even she had no doubt that her client was guilty. After all, despite his weight and lack of a license, it seemed quite obvious to her that he had an accomplice.

And her opponent had no motive for the crime. She had superior knowledge and the truth, and all he had was one lousy piece of evidence.

"In that case, the jury may now decide the verdict."

The look of defeat on her opponent's face was one she had seen so many, many times.

And, two hours or so later, she drove out of the parking lot with a smile she had worn so many, many more.

* * *

Now, she sat on her couch with a glass of wine and her labradoodle, watching Pretty Little Liars on mute at 11 PM while she talked to her best friend over Skype. Her hair was in pink curlers that matched the oversized Jimmy Choo t-shirt she bought at a thrift shop in Miami, and she filed her nails quite messily as she kicked her feet up onto the coffee table. If it were anybody but Gwen seeing her, she wouldn't be caught dead doing so.

"No, I mean, I don't understand why people are so intimidated by my hair. It's not even blue anymore! It's literally just black, but just because it's not as natural as it used to be people assume I'm goth or something."

Courtney nodded, not looking up from her nails. "You are pretty goth, though."

"Not really! I mean, I'm naturally pale and my eyes just happen look like they were murdered with blue eyeshadow. And what makes it worse is that they'll see me protest animal testing out of big beauty companies like Suave and so they label me as some sort of goth eco-obsessed stereotype! It's not like I own 50 cats and hate all colors except black, like, do you see what I am wearing right now? Would a goth eco-obsessed stereotype wear this?!"

Courtney looked up at the screen and saw a white halter top decorated with green skulls. "Yes."

"Ugh! You're just as bad as they are. I feel obligated to go buy a fur coat or something."

Courtney laughed, setting down the nail file and pausing the TV. "You can borrow mine," She joked, but before Gwen could become offended, said "I'm kidding! I'm kidding. I love animals, isn't that right, Gatsby?" Cuddling her labradoodle, she made a number of strange baby-talk sounds which she was sure Gwen found quite disgusting and animal-ist, as if that was a word.

"Oh, stop it, Courtney. How did the trial go?"

Courtney smiled, gently pushing Gatsby aside and focusing on her conversation with Gwen. "Great, as always."

"I'm assuming you won?" Gwen asked. Courtney nodded as if this was obvious (in her defense, it was). "Don't you ever feel guilty when you win? Like, knowing some rapist or murderer or jewel thief is getting off the hook just because it's your job?"

"No." Courtney scoffed. "Cause that's what it is; my job."

"Well, whatever you say, Miss Unhumanitarian. I gotta go to bed, I have a job interview tomorrow."

And then Courtney was reminded that her best friend was unemployed for about the fifth time that week, and as she looked around her sky-rise apartment with the most incredible view of her favorite city, she almost felt sorry for her. "Right. Well, good luck." Courtney smiled. "Bye."

She ended the call before Gwen could reply, unpaused the TV, and binge ate 2 entire boxes of popcorn until 3 AM.

* * *

When she woke up the next day, she was mortified to find that it was a quarter to noon and she had an appointment exactly 15 minutes ago. Feeling extremely embarrassed and unprofessional, she fumbled to explain the situation to her client over the phone and apologized, rescheduling for the same time next week.

She threw up last night's 'snack' into the sink, threw up on the floor at the sight of it, and then proceeded to throw up on the mop as she tried to clean the whole shebang.

She was starting to get angry, because vomit reminded her of camp and she really, _really_ would rather not be reminded of camp when she had a 104 degree fever. Or when she didn't. Either way, she had woken up no more than 10 minutes ago and could already tell that this was not going to be a day like yesterday.

She gave up on trying to force a glass of water down and eventually returned to the couch, scrolling through her cell phone for someone, _anyone_ who lived nearby…

 _Bridgette, work…_

 _Mom, on vacation…_

 _Gwen, interview..._

 _Duncan, asshole…_

Wait a second, why was he even still a contact on her phone? Oh yeah, he had custody of their raccoon since Gatsby didn't handle her so well… (no, it's not weird for a Defense Attorney to have a raccoon).

Okay, so maybe not _anyone_. Courtney really needed to make more friends.

She settled on leaving Gwen a voicemail and hoping her interview was done soon.


	2. Wannabe Kardashian

**Warning: This chapter contains lame spy movie clichés**

She was pretty, tall, curvy, and tan.

"Don't." She warned, slapping his hand away as it reached for her purse. It was almost as if she was swatting away a fly; this had happened to her before. There was no use picking on her now.

"Fine." Duncan muttered, upset that he'd wasted money on buying her a drink. He'd thought he could at least get sex out of it, if not money, but the crook was out of luck for the first time in a while.

The last time, to be exact, was when he'd accidentally run over his raccoon while backing out of his driveway.

Her name, as he'd learned through a long and excruciating process of cat and mouse, was Mary, which did not at all match her Kardashian-wannabe appearance. He had made a mistake buying her a girly drink, especially since those ones were more expensive, and he soon learned she wasn't that type of gal as she downed the fruity drink in a matter of 2 sips and gave him a glare worth a run for his money.

She was looking around the bar almost nervously, but by the time he had noticed this she had already grabbed his hand and snuck into the one-stall bathroom, proceeding to pull makeup remover out of her purse, pour some onto a paper towel, and furiously wipe her face clean of what seemed like a gallon of bronzer and tan concealer. Once she was done, she pulled off her brunette wig, took off her fake eyelashes, pulled a few socks out of her bra, removed her high heels, and turned to Duncan with a strange look as she said, "What, you've never heard of a disguise?"

"Bridgette?!" He yelped, feeling like an idiot for not recognizing his old friend sooner. "What the hell?"

She smiled. "Nice to see you too." The both of them heard a soft beep, to which she replied by pressing two fingers to a device that had been previously hidden behind her wig, speaking to whoever was on the other end. "Hey, babe."

"G-Geoff!" Duncan stuttered, but was interrupted as Bridgette's free hand flew over his mouth to silence him.

"Yup! I've got him. No problems. I had to wait longer than I thought I would, though, 'cause he wouldn't shut up for more than two seconds and I didn't want to catch him off guard."

Duncan scoffed, seeing as she'd definitely failed at that. She glared at him, seeming to finish her conversation as her hands fell to her sides.

"Sorry," She breathed, smiling a little bit. "You have to come with me."

"What?! Why?!" Duncan was confused beyond confused at this point.

"Uh, I'll explain later. That's how it always works, right? Anyways, I don't want people to see us coming out of the bathroom together, and if I let you leave on your own there's no way you won't run, so I guess we're gonna have to leave the badass way."

Before he could ask what "the badass way" was, she pulled out a cheap pen, popped off the cap, and proceeded to dig her knuckles into the side until a bright red beam emitted from the tip, hitting the sink and leaving a scorch mark behind.

"Oops." She commented at her destruction. "Oh well. Not like that's the only thing I'm going to ruin today." Just as she said this, she pointed the pen to the ceiling, creating a smoking line up the wall, and proceeded to cut a circular opening just above the toilet. Proud of her work, she smiled, jumped onto the toilet seat and propped herself up, motioning for Duncan to do the same. As badass as it was, he thought it would be much easier to try and sneak out unnoticed.

"Show off," He muttered, following her to the roof. He was lucky she didn't seem to hear.

"Geoff should be coming for us now." She informed, flattening out the skirt of her tight-fit dress. "He'll see us right away, since we're on the roof."

What she meant by this, Duncan didn't know, but he was so at a loss for what was happening that he didn't dare question it now. Soon, what looked like a blur of nothingness flew above them, something he would normally dismiss as his imagination. But he knew better, seeing Bridgette wave at it, walk towards the edge of the rooftop and after the blur approached her open what Duncan guessed was an invisible door. "Get in." She commanded, motioning towards the edge. At that moment Duncan knew she was probably trying to kill him, but he figured that he was dreaming and if he jumped off the edge of a building he would wake up. So he humored her.

And suddenly Geoff appeared the second his foot hit the air, because it wasn't air. It was a bubble and Geoff was standing smack in the middle of it, smiling as he made eye contact with his old friend. Bridgette stepped in immediately after him, closing the door (bubbles had doors?) and smiling at Duncan, too.

 _What the actual fuck is happening?_ He thought.

" **What the actual fuck is happening?!"** He screamed.


End file.
